


Fragmented

by Aryagraceling



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kisame being a good friend, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompt: Trying Not To Cry, Uchiha Massacre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 04:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: Itachi never wanted to see red again.Not that he saw anything else these days. Sticky crimson memories flashed behind every blink, left him feeling like his skin was on fire as he remembered the heat of it splashing from loved ones’ bodies. He hadn’t slept in much too long because that’s when it became worse, waves crashing over him and sending him spiraling deep into the abyss of what once was.What will never be.





	Fragmented

**Author's Note:**

> Itachi may have been an ANBU captain, but Itachi needing comfort after the massacre because he was THIRTEEN can be pried from my cold, dead hands. 
> 
> For BTHB: Trying Not To Cry

Itachi had never understood Kakashi’s obsession with washing his hands after missions. The older boy would sit in the bathroom far longer than he should, scrubbing until his skin was raw and his nails were chipping. It was a waste of time and water and while there were worse things to waste, it was the consistency at which Kakashi wasted them that alarmed Itachi. Blood on their skin was part of missions, didn’t he understand that?

He’d never understood the obsession with keeping his armor spotless, either. Code of conduct dictated it must be so, but Kakashi often stripped in a safe place in the field and cleaned before they got back to the village. His silver shone bright under the sun at all times, even when Itachi’s shone red.

Itachi never wanted to see red again.

Not that he saw anything else these days. Sticky crimson memories flashed behind every blink, left him feeling like his skin was on fire as he remembered the heat of it splashing from loved ones’ bodies. He hadn’t slept in much too long because that’s when it became worse, waves crashing over him and sending him spiralling deep into the abyss of what once was.

What will never be.

He was certain the rest of the Akatsuki would laugh if they knew. Hidan would be the first, doubling over with hands on his sides as he cackled at the thought that blood was  _ scary  _ to an ANBU. Pein would probably be second as he told Itachi to grow up, the dour look on his face a worse scolding than any his parents had ever given him. Kakuzu, then, and Zetsu with his silent judgement. Everyone would look at the child and laugh because what does he know of blood?

Too much. 

Too much and never enough. He pulled his cloak tighter around him in the dark, tucking his face into the fabric to muffle his sniff. It was stupid.  _ He _ was stupid. It was all his fault anyway, because he should’ve known better than to think he could actually  _ handle  _ these demands when he hadn’t even kissed a girl.

Or a boy. 

He supposed it didn’t matter. 

He’d probably have to get rid of them too, because that’s all he was good for. 

Itachi sniffed again, eyes burning. He wouldn’t cry. There was no need for that here. What good would it accomplish? Would it move the Akatsuki closer to their goals that he wasn’t looking forward to? Even if he would have had a home to go back to, crying wasn’t something to do there either. He wasn’t a boy any more.

_ Boys _ didn’t murder their clans.

The darkness in the cave around him was somewhat soothing. In the darkness, he didn’t have to look at the bright light of outside and remember warm afternoons spent with Sasuke in the forest. He didn’t have to deal with the birds singing sweetly like they had when he sat and made flower crowns with Shisui in the backyard. 

Shisui...of all the things Itachi thought he’d be glad for, Shisui’s death wasn’t one of them. But he was able to take solace in the fact that  _ that  _ wasn’t his fault, wasn’t something he needed to wash his hands of. Tears pricked harder at his eyes as he remembered being so enamored with the way the older boy’s smile lit up his face. 

Just one more reason not to go back.

The fabric of his cloak whispered as he ducked his head completely into the cowl. It collapsed over him, and he was enveloped in something not unlike a bit of peace. The rain falling outside drowned out his heartbeat, even his sniffling as the storm intensified. He told himself it was just the water dripping down on him as the first tear fell. Anything to help stem the tide.

He always told Sasuke to stop crying.  _ Be better,  _ he’d say, trying to encourage improvement over mourning. Maybe he shouldn’t have. The thought of that, now, was just another memory carving its way down his face. Arm shaking, he extended his index and middle finger to poke himself between the eyes. The action drew out an actual sob, and he bit his lip against the noise.

He’d never be able to do that again either.

Stone scraped against his skin when he curled in on himself beneath the black. His chest hurt from the long, trying-too-hard-to-be-even breaths and he whispered a plea to whatever spirit was listening to make it stop. Make the memories stop. Make the hurt stop. Make the rain stop. Make the tears stop.

Make the world stop.

**

Kisame was never one for giving a pat on the back for tears. He wasn’t in the business of comfort, after all--that didn’t matter quite as much as their new objective. Long ago, maybe, when he was a child still looking to seek out something other than a new mission, but now what did it particularly matter? 

He picked out the black bundle in the corner of his preferred thinking spot effortlessly. The new one, Itachi, judging from the smell. Quiet noises floated from the shivering body, barely audible over the thunder and the smack of Samehada against the floor. Red eyes in a pale face flew to his at the noise and Itachi scrambled as far back as the rock would let him. “Get out,” the boy spat. “I don’t need you here.”

“You’re in my spot,” Kisame said, shrugging.

“It’s mine now.” Itachi rubbed a sleeve over his face, glaring when he was finished. “I’m taking it. Go away.”

Kisame wasn’t going to argue with him. Instead, he sat on the floor with a huff and pulled his blade into his lap. He didn’t speak, only shut his eyes as he listened to Itachi attempting to get his breathing under control. Konoha shinobi had never been particularly impressive to him, not after being in the Seven and all that entailed. 

He’d heard talk of what happened, Uchiha Itachi losing his mind and slaughtering the remainder of his clan before defecting.  _ Crazy,  _ they called him.  _ Insane, unworthy, murderer.  _ Kisame largely disregarded it, because you had to be a special sort to fit in with them, anyway.

But this... _ tears... _ was unexpected. Itachi wasn’t supposed to be  _ mourning,  _ he was supposed to be integrating. He’d hated his clan, after all, because why else put them all to death? 

Itachi continued glaring as Kisame’s thoughts coalesced. “I said  _ leave.” _

“Can’t always get what you want,” Kisame said.

The boy’s chin quivered, eyes going wide. “You wouldn’t know much about that.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

A long,  _ long  _ few seconds, and Itachi nodded. “I wanted my family,” he whispered.

“Wanted them de--”

“No!” Itachi yelled, clapping both hands over his mouth as he recoiled in horror. “Yes. Yes, that’s--” He bit off the rest of what he was going to say. “Dead. All dead.”

Kisame lowered his head to rest on his bent knees. He regarded the Uchiha not with aggression, but with a curious reluctance as the boy tried not to cry again. “I don’t believe you.”

“I wanted them dead.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Itachi’s face screwed, lines on his cheeks deepening. “I did!”

“If we’re going to work together, we need to trust each other,” Kisame sighed. “I don’t fucking care if you wanted it or not, honestly. Kill your family or don’t. What I care about is that you won’t just up and let me die.”

“I wouldn’t,” Itachi whispered. 

“Why not?”

“Because we need to work together to attain an objective and teamwork is the way to do it.”

_ He speaks like an old man,  _ Kisame thought as the shivering started again. “I also don’t care if you cry. Just don’t do it often.”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“There you are, lying again,” Kisame said. 

“I wasn’t lying.” Itachi hugged his chest pitifully, working hard to calm himself under Kisame’s gaze. “I was...was…”

“Mourning.”

“Go away!”

Kisame sighed. “Listen, kid, you obviously don’t want to be here. Go home before you get in any deeper, all right?”

Itachi sniffled again and uncurled just the slightest bit. He was absolutely drowning in his robe, and Kisame made a note to try finding someone to fix it for him. They may have been monsters, but they weren’t animals. “I don’t have a home anymore. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Fuck, go to bed or something, then,” Kisame said. He tossed his hands into the air in frustration and hated the way Itachi flinched from him. “I’m sorry. But you don’t sleep. Can’t be healthy.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because...because…” Itachi rubbed at his face again and quieted, burying his head in a sleeve. “Just because?”

“You were ANBU, didn’t they teach you to take care of yourself?”

“They taught me to kill,” Itachi said softly. “And to not care.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Kisame said.

Itachi peered over at him, silent tears carving down his cheeks. “I didn’t.”

“You do now.”

“I don’t.”

“Come here.” Kisame held an arm out in invitation. He didn’t give pats on the back for tears, no, but he also didn’t feel like being responsible for someone going truly off the deep end because no one took a minute for comfort. The time that passed between Itachi’s last sniff and his first actual sob was an eternity, but eventually he crawled over and plastered himself to Kisame’s side. “It’s okay to say shit’s not all right.”

“It’s fi-fine,” Itachi sobbed. 

“Mmm.” Kisame rubbed a hand up and down Itachi’s arm as they sat, taking up humming when the crying became too much. It wasn’t a lot, but it seemed to be enough as Itachi quieted. Cries turned to whimpers that turned to heavy, even breathing, and when Kisame looked down, Itachi was fast asleep. 

“Hey,” Kisame whispered. “You going to sleep here all night?”

Itachi mumbled something unintelligible and clutched at Kisame’s robe.

“No, not happening,” he sighed. There were several sounds of protest as he got up, but Itachi didn’t fully rouse even when Kisame gathered him in his arms. He had to have been made of little more than air, Kisame thought, because there was almost nothing to him. Walking with a body had never been so easy.

As he passed the others in various locations throughout the hideout, he shushed any comments with a glare and feral smile. He considered trying to put the boy back in his own room but realized he didn’t know what sort of precautions he’d taken to hide his innermost life, so elected to drop Itachi in  _ his  _ bed instead. The door shut with a loud  _ crack,  _ his kick just a bit too forceful, and Itachi started in his arms. 

“Wha--”

“You fell asleep.” Kisame put him on the bed-- _ almost  _ gently, but Itachi was beginning to struggle--before squatting back on his heels with a shrug. “Wasn’t going to leave you to catch a cold.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“No, I didn’t.” Itachi tensed, and Kisame held his hands up. “But you’re welcome.”

“This isn’t my bed,” Itachi said, sounding close to tears again. “I want mine.”

Kisame pointed to the door. “Didn’t want my ass blown to shreds with whatever locks you put on there,” he said, earning the tiniest huff of a laugh. “You’re free to go.”

Itachi stood and backed up like a cat, back to the wall and arms slightly spread. “I’m not weak.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Say it,” Itachi hissed.

“You were the perfect picture of grace and poise, you fucking happy?”

Itachi narrowed his eyes before nodding once, curtly, and backing out the door. Kisame didn’t know how he’d react when he found out that everyone else had seen him being brought in, but that was a problem for another day. The frame creaked as he lowered himself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a groan. He was fairly certain he’d pay for it when the embarrassment hit the younger man, but it was better than simply leaving him like Konoha had.

“Maybe eventually he’ll trust me,” Kisame said. “Until then, we wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
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